Dying Young
by Megan8
Summary: Willow is slowly losing the love of her life.


Dying Young  
  
Author: Megan  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. All things 'Buffy' belong to Joss Whedon and co.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please: shy_grrl@hotmail.com  
  
Spoilers: Not much. A little from season one's 'Prophecy Girl'. Oh, and a bitsy bit from season five, just because I like... well, a certain thing from season five :-)  
  
Pairing: Buffy and Willow. Yikes!  
  
Summary: Willow is slowly losing the love of her life.  
  
Author's Notes: A condensed version of a much longer story, my sister dreamed up in the summer. An adaptation of the Laura/Donna story line from 'Twin Peaks'. In order to do this, I had to make an adjustment to the Buffy- versum: Buffy's lived her whole life in Sunnydale. Also, I took great liberties with Willow. I don't know, if she's even recognizable in this story. (But, hey, what do you expect? How can I write a B/W story without changing the characters, since there's nothing that supports the shippy on the show? ;-))  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
I had known her forever. From kindergarten to high school. We were always together. It's weird, how relationships evolve. First friends, then best friends, then more than best friends. And then less than... more than best friends. Eventually, even less than friends, in a way. I hardly knew her the last six months. But I still loved her. I have loved her forever.  
  
Buffy Summers. The cheerleader who loved me. Great title for a book. Or a movie. It still baffles me, what she saw in me. We were nothing alike. I'm a nerdy brainiac, with geeky friends and interests. And she is the... was the captain of the freaking cheerleading team! The most popular girl in school. With friends like Cordelia Chase.  
  
When we were younger, I understood it. Appearances didn't matter then. But from the beginning of high school, I just waited for the day, she'd dump me. I dreaded the time, she'd blow me off because of an obvious excuse. 'Not today, Willow. I've got to... study?'  
  
She did blow me off eventually, but she never stopped loving me. I know that now. And she didn't dump me, because I was uncool. She didn't dump me because of her popular friends, like I thought she would. No, it was much worse than that. Only, I didn't see it at the time. The way she sank into darkness. I never tried to save her. Cause I was too busy resenting her. Blaming her. Even hating her, at times.  
  
All that time she started spending in the library... at first, I thought, she actually WAS studying more. Like she claimed to be. But her test scores quickly trashed that possibility. They were even lower than before. She wasn't studying. She started cutting classes. Showing up late, the days she showed up at all. She quit the cheerleading team. Started ignoring Cordelia and the rest, even more than she ignored me. And where before, that would've made me happy, now it only scared me. As did the way her looks changed. She was exhausted all the time. Like she didn't sleep anymore. Big black rings around her eyes. Cuts and scrapes on her face and arms, from time to time.  
  
Drugs, I guess it was. Had to be. And the gangs, that have invaded our quiet little town. I never thought, Buffy'd get sucked into that. It never even crossed my mind. Until it was too late.  
  
***  
  
"Willow... you worry too much," she smiles, and caresses my cheek with her fingers.  
  
I pull away from her touch, and sit down on the couch, "I do not," I say forcefully. She turns away, and hides her face, "Why won't you tell me, what's going on?"  
  
She doesn't answer at first. Just takes a few steps away from me, and breathes heavily. So heavily, I hear her, "I can't tell you, Willow. It's... you wouldn't understand," she hurts me again. When she says things like that, she feels so distant. Like we're worlds apart. Like we're not together, the way I want us to be.  
  
"Try me," I whisper quietly. She slowly turns to look at me. And smiles again. She looks so beautiful, when she smiles. She looks so young, when she smiles. And not at all worn out, like she usually does these days. But whenever she smiles now, I know she's only trying to divert my attention. Trying to cover up whatever secrets she has.  
  
"Willooow..." she draws out my name lovingly, and starts inching closer to me, "There's nothing going on," she says, shaking her head.  
  
And I'm supposed to believe that. When she just seconds ago admitted, something was going on. And I believe that. When she just seconds later, kneels down in front of me, and stares intently into my eyes, "Buffy..." I try to resist the hypnosis. But it's futile. She has too much power over me.  
  
Slowly, she climbs onto the sofa, placing her knees on either side of my legs, and leaning her head closer. So close, our noses briefly brush against each other. She draws back just an inch, and opens her mouth, "I'm the strong one, Willow. Let me worry about you," she says. And kisses me.  
  
That's her way of winning an argument. When she kisses me, all sensible thoughts disappear from my head. Not that there were many of them left, after that stare. She could win our arguments without saying a word. She just talks for my benefit, I think. Giving me some delusion of power.  
  
When she brings her hands on either side of my head, tilting it backwards, and pushes her tongue into my mouth, I don't even remember what we were talking about anymore. It couldn't have been anything important, since she's still kissing me. And that's really the only thing that is important. That, and her body slowly grinding against mine, "Buffy..." I moan, when she ends the kiss, and moves her mouth down, on my neck.  
  
"Buffy?!" another voice calls.  
  
This one isn't mine. It comes from outside the living room. It's a younger voice. It's her sister's voice. It brings with it, an unwelcome interruption. She groans quietly, and raises her head on my shoulder, "Go away, Dawn!" she shouts, right next to my ear.  
  
I wince from the painful sound, and start to wriggle under her. She doesn't move at first, but when I lightly push her, she agrees to roll off of me, and sits down on the sofa. She's looking at me, a little confused, but half her attention is devoted to the sister, so she doesn't object.  
  
The ten-year old girl appears in the doorway, and smiles when she sees me. I don't find a reason to smile back, "Hi, Willow!" her sister chirps overly exited.  
  
"What do you want, Dawn?" she irately gripes.  
  
The younger girl is taken aback. Her eyes flip between the two of us, "Oh, you were... I didn't mean to..." she starts to stutter, "I'll go!" she says, and hightails out of the room, the same way she came in.  
  
She smirks after her sister, and then turns towards me, "Where were we?" she huskily whispers.  
  
"I was just leaving," I say, and jump up from the couch.  
  
She grabs my hand, and stands up too, "What?" she demands to know.  
  
I pull my hand free, and put a few yards between us, before daring to answer her. If she's at touching range, she'll only hypnotize me again, "I'm going, Buffy," I say, glancing at her, but quickly looking away again, "You can't just kiss me, and expect everything to be okay. I'm not five," I say in a rare burst of determination, "If you want me, you're gona have to give me all of you."  
  
I wait a few moments for her answer, and then follow her sister example, and make a run for the exit. When I'm almost out, she decides to talk, "I can't tell you," she says, and I stop to listen, "You're just gona have to trust me, Willow. This is the only way."  
  
I stand quietly for a while in the door way, "Then there is no way. For us," I say, and leave.  
  
***  
  
I was so selfish. I didn't see what was happening. I only saw how all it affected me. Me. ME! I should've stopped to look at the big picture for a second. Should've looked at her. Really looked. Every time she refused to tell me, I took it personally, and got angry at her. I didn't see how much it hurt her, to not be able to tell me. I see it now. I see her eyes in my mind. I see such pain in them. And I only added to it, with my childish behavior.  
  
How could I be SO stupid? I've always prided on my intelligence, and when it came to the most important thing in my life, I acted like a moron.  
  
We fought and made up a million and one times during that six months. We'd go a week without talking to each other, sometimes without even seeing each other. And one day, she'd appear knocking on my door. Looking devastated. Half dead. And crying her eyes out. And I'd let her in, and comfort her. And love her. Because, what else could I do?  
  
I would hold her in my arms, and wait for the tears to stop. And wait for her to fall asleep. Sometimes she did, and I'd lie down next to her, and imagined everything was okay. That she didn't have some secret double life, away from me.  
  
A few times, I staked out her house, and tried following her, when she went out in the night. Cause I'd figured that much out. If she didn't sleep at night, she had to be doing something else. Sometimes she headed straight for the cemeteries or the parks. But a couple of times, she met up with this tall dark man, and they'd leave together. And I thought my heart would break. I could never keep up with them, though. She slipped away from me every night. But the last.  
  
That's when she caught me spying on her. She demanded I stop it, and I started arguing in a jealous rage. Cause she'd been sneaking out at nights, and meeting up with this guy. She said, I didn't know what I was talking about, and that it wasn't like that. She said, I couldn't come out at nights. Practically screamed at me to stay home. She said, I would never see her again, if she caught me outside again after dark. And I yelled, FINE! Cause I didn't want to see her ANYWAY!  
  
And then we made up again. For the last time.  
  
***  
  
There's a knock on the front door. It's seven o'clock in the evening, and I know it's her. Come groveling back again. This time I'm adamant to stand my ground. I won't let her manipulate me again. I deserve better than this. I deserve to be trusted.  
  
I open the door. It is her. But she isn't groveling. She's fidgeting nervously. Hands me a bouquet of flowers. I gape at her, and accept the gift with shaky hands, "What's this?" I ask her.  
  
"For you," she says, "I'm sorry."  
  
I expect her to jump into one of her trademark apologies, about how she didn't mean to hurt me, and didn't mean to shut me out, and how she needs me. But she doesn't say anything more, "That's it?" I blandly reply.  
  
"Pretty much," she says, and nods, "Except, that it's gona be different from now on."  
  
I still stand at the door, baffled and unable to invite her in. My eyes shift between the flowers, and the girl I still love, "What is?" I ask her.  
  
"Everything," she quite simply states, and shrugs her shoulders, "Me. Us. I won't leave you alone again, Willow."  
  
I stare back at her, and almost step aside, granting her access back into my life. But at the last moment, I gather my strength and stand my ground, "It isn't that easy, Buffy," I tell her, "You've treated me like garbage, these past months. Tossing me aside, whenever I haven't fit into your stupid little rebel lifestyle."  
  
My harsh words startle her a little, but she quickly brushes them aside, "I know. But it's all over now," she shakes her head, and smiles briefly.  
  
Damn. Why did she have to smile? She looks so adorable when she smiles. She's like a whole different life form, when she smiles. Totally beyond all criticism. If she'd ever stand accused of murder, all she'd have to do, is smile to the jury, and the lawyer could go, 'The defense rests!' And they'd all believe she's innocent. Like I do, now.  
  
"So, can I come in?" she again smiles. I shut my eyes for a few seconds, trying to block out her beauty. It doesn't work, cause I can still picture her. Smiling. And laughing. And kissing. And doing all kinds of nice things to me, "Willow?" she says.  
  
Fine. Come in then. It's useless to try to resist her charms. And I do think, it's gona be different this time. It feels different. She brought me flowers. She doesn't look like something that just crawled out of the gutter in search of shelter. She's here only because of me, not because of herself. I hope.  
  
I make room for her, and she steps inside my home.  
  
***  
  
She's dead now. They found her lifeless body in the sewers, a few days after the school almost got destroyed. Drowned in a pool that wasn't more than two inches deep. She was still dressed in the same white dress, she was supposed to wear for the dance we meant to go. But never got around to.  
  
It was all my fault. All she wanted to do that night, was go to the Bronze and party. But then I freaked out over the dead students, and didn't wanna go anymore. And she left. To take care of something. And because, I was again wallowing in my own pathetic problems, I didn't stop her. She left. Even though she promised, never to leave me again, she did. And she didn't come back. She won't ever again come back.  
  
And I go crazy every day, trying to figure out, what happened. What drew her into the night. Where she went, and what she did. And with whom. I know she had something to do with the destruction of the library. She was connected to the place. And she was connected to the vampire-wannabe gang, who go around murdering people, and draining their blood. The police said, it happened to her too. That she had these puncture marks on her neck, when she was found.  
  
That last night we spent together, she promised to tell me everything in time. After the Spring Fling thing, she said. And she would've too. She said, it was all in the past now, that we would be together forever. But I'm even more alone.  
  
I waste my days with her sister now. We sit around in her room, and talk about her all the time. It's funny, how we both knew her so well, and still so differently. How we both loved her so much, and still so differently. We share stories that are new to the other. And we share stories, we both already know. And we laugh, and we cry. And even though, she's dead, we still learn new things about her.  
  
She didn't only hide her night life from me, she hid other things too. And I'm slowly learning to accept, that I will never know everything. She wasn't like others. She was only sixteen when she died, and she lived many lives in that time. She was many things. She loved many things.  
  
And I was lucky to be the one she loved the most.  
  
end 


End file.
